A Room with an extraordinary view: Gazing across London from a modern 'Noah's Ark'

His first outing across raging floods and surging currents ended – so the Bible says – with his hand-crafted boat coming to ground on the lonely peak of Mount Ararat, in far eastern Turkey. A hard and decidedly remote place in which to let the animals leave two by two.

Stuck on you: A Room For London currently perches on the roof of the Queen Elizabeth Hall

But his second foray across the waters of God’s anger appears to have finished in a rather more urban location. There the vessel sits, perched semi-precariously on the roof of the Queen Elizabeth Hall. Its prow juts above the concrete face of the building, sticking out towards the pedestrian space of the South Bank, where evening commuters scurry for Waterloo.

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Gazing up from below, I wonder if this is really a safe place to spend a night.

Of course, the Roi des Belges
has not been deposited here by divine fury and the wobbly navigation of
a possibly mythical figure. Nor has London been consumed by a rising
tide that has left this sturdy ship marooned atop one of the city’s key
cultural bastions. And this is certainly not – it might be obvious to
say – the first confirmed sighting of the Ark.

West and east: From the 'ship' windows, residents can look left and right along the flow of the River Thames

But the truth still falls within the realm of the outlandish.

This is A Room For London, a
nautical-themed ‘building’, and the most visible piece of structural
fantasy engineered by Living Architecture – a forward-thinking
organisation which specialises in envelope-pushing slabs of
bricks-and-mortar (or, more likely, steel-and-glass) that take the idea
of a house to strange, amazing places. Witness The Balancing Barn, a
curious ‘cantilevered’ creation in Aldeburgh, Suffolk, that has been
posited on the lip of a slope – half its rooms hanging improbably over
the edge as if restaging the cinematic climax of The Italian Job.

The company says that its mission
statement is “the promotion and enjoyment of world-class modern
architecture”. This sounds awfully big and clever, but A Room For London
has proved so popular that it is anything but an impenetrably high-brow
castle in the sky.

Through the porthole: The nautical theme of the building is emphasised by the design of the windows

Designed by London-based architect
David Kohn and British artist Fiona Banner (who was shortlisted for the
Turner Prize in 2002), it was installed on the flat roof of the Queen
Elizabeth Hall as a celebratory statement for the year of the Olympics
and the Golden Jubilee – and was supposed to be taken down from its
lofty position at the close of 2012.

But
its sizeable interior has been in such demand that the project was
extended until the end of this year. Would-be guests can apply to stay
by registering for a public ballot that is held every two months – and
competition for a night’s residency is remarkably fierce. In the
year-and-a-half of its existence, the Room has hosted artistic
luminaries such as the musicians David Byrne and Jarvis Cocker, and
award-winning author Jeanette Winterson.

Everything ship shape: The upper deck provides an uninterrupted view of the River Thames

I, however, am in possession of a
golden ticket – or, at least, an e-mail that informs me I have been
granted a single night’s refuge. It talks of safety briefings and
precise check-in times, and has an air of the clandestine and the
mysterious. The reality is that I meet my wife outside the artists’
entrance to the Royal Festival Hall, where we are handed a plain keycard
– and then shown to the top of the next-door Queen Elizabeth Hall via a
clanking service lift that takes the best part of two minutes over its
lumbering journey upwards.

The
Room, though, restores the sense of mystique. There it waits at the end
of a narrow walkway, defiantly boat-like but for the total absence of
water and the quirky metal pylon – perhaps a 22nd century windmill –
that thrusts up from the main body of the structure.

Sing me to sleep: The main portion of the Room is given over to a large double bed

Inside, things are – at first glance –
a touch spartan. There are separate shower and toilet compartments, and
a kitchen area with sink, fridge and microwave.

But
beyond the dividing panel that shuts off this cooking zone from the
bedroom, the Room unveils its chief selling-point – the view from its
large windows.

There, in
widescreen glory, is early evening London – the Thames flowing
patiently; the Houses of Parliament painted honey hues by the failing
sun; the London Eye spinning slowly to the left, the curved dome of St
Paul’s proudly apparent to the right; joggers pounding the pavement
below, oblivious to our watching from on high. We clamber to the ‘upper
deck’ via a retractable step ladder, before opening an inexpensive
bottle of bubbly as we further absorb this glorious setting.

A curiosity: The Room is topped by a windmill-style metal contraption (left) as Chris (right) mans the bridge

Perhaps it is the fizz, but after an hour, I have decided that this view does not simply show London.

It, effectively, shows all of it.

Pleasure
boats glide along the Thames, full of tourists. Buses, brightly red,
rumble across Waterloo Bridge – or stand stalled in traffic on the
Embankment, which is mired in a jam. Opposite, the rear of The Savoy
promises gilded accommodation as, to the east, the sleek shape of The
Shard jabs at the skyline, with its hints of high finance and vast
construction budgets. But there is a sadder side to the metropolis too –
the young couple caught up in a furious argument on the riverside
promenade; the two homeless men sitting in the shadows, ignored by
passers-by. It is all here – London the global star, London the party
host, London the cold, uncaring stranger.

After dark: Once night falls, the windows of the 'ship' offer different images of the city - the Houses of Parliament (left) illuminated; night buses zooming across Waterloo Bridge (right) with St Paul's in the distance

We amble down – via the ponderous
lift – for dinner on the South Bank, and return to find that the picture
has changed. Night amplifies the noises of the city – the cars on
Waterloo Bridge growling in the darkness where they had seemed to purr
in the light; four garrulous drinkers speaking in loud voices as they
stumble home.

We drift to
sleep in the big, comfy bed, and wake to the sounds of the capital
clicking into gear – street sweepers diligently pushing brushes;
delivery lorries beep-beeping as they reverse into loading bays; wind
whipping off a Thames that is grey and sullen in these early moments.
London seems paused and quiet – but when I wander outside to find coffee
and breakfast, the first, enthusiastic workers are pouring out of
Waterloo Station and crossing the river.

Morning comes: Dawn offers a snapshot of a grey, cold London struggling to shake off its sleepy lethargy

My wife, with an early start herself,
soon follows them – leaving me to pack up. But my attention is seized
by the ‘ship’s log’ – a colossal hard-back tome where previous guests
have left their thoughts. I flick through, past messages long and short –
some recorded in frantic spider scrawl, others in clear, considered
script – and halt at one particular page.

There,
an April inhabitant has laid out his stay in detail – a night in the
Room unveiled as a surprise by his wife; a picnic of champagne, bread
and mini-sausages on the upper deck; a trip to the theatre.

“Then
we came home to this boat and fell asleep,” he writes. “I got up in the
middle of the night to get some water, and stood by the window at 4am,
looking at the beautiful city, all silent and lit up, and then at my
beautiful sleeping wife.”

Sign your name: Guests are encouraged to add to the 'ship's log' - and many leave detailed records of their stay

It is a lovely sentiment – and one that almost chimes against the name of the ‘boat’, which is printed on the front of the log in gold type. Roi des Belges is a shy reference to Joseph Conrad, the 19th century author of Heart Of Darkness who, before penning his iconic tale of colonial horrors in Africa, piloted a craft of the same name on the Congo.

But with the sun coming up cheerily behind east London, there seems precious little darkness – and surely no horror – on this calm summer morning.

And if A Room For London finds a new berth – Living Architecture hopes to move the ‘boat’ to a fresh location once its tenure at Queen Elizabeth Hall finishes in December – then it will continue to offer an intriguing perspective on a city where its arty oddness is a neat fit.

Travel Facts

A night’s stay at A Room For London costs £300. The ballot for stays during November and December will open soon via Living Architecture (www.living-architecture.co.uk).